Predetermined
by Lolsome-o-sis girl
Summary: Doctor Who/Wizards Vs Aliens fic. *SERIES 5 REWRITE* *MAJOR WVSA SERIES 2 SPOLIERS!* Two years after the end of series 2, Lexi/Lucy is as happy as someone could possibly be (sort of). Until she is caught in a car crash that destroys the life she built for herself...Until The Doctor arrives, and nothing will ever be the same again...DISCLAIMER, I OWN NOTHING! :) Please enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_**"Please keep your hands down**_

_**And stop raising your voice**_

_**It's hardly what I'd be doing if you gave me a choice**_

_**It's a simple suggestion, can you give me some time**_

_**So just say yes or no**_

_**Why can't you shoulder the blame**_

_**'Cause both my shoulders are heavy**_

_**From the weight of us both**_

_**You're a big boy now so let's not talk about growth" **_**- Snow Patrol, "How to Be Dead"**

* * *

"C'mon, Mum...Please?"

A shadow fell over my face, shielding my eyes from the harsh glare of the sun that was burning down on us in the beautiful blue sky, fluffy white clouds ghosting past. Benny clung to my right arm, looking down at me imploringly with his round, child like brown eyes, hidden by his thick waves of dark hair. My eyes moved from the puffy shapes forming in the clouds, down to my eight year old son.

"Sweetie, we've been through this before. I know you think something bad will happen, but it won't. I promise. We'll be home from the theatre in a few hours, you'll see."

"You don't know that!" Benny's grip on my arm tightened. "You can't see the things that I do. And I can see something awful happening to us tonight!"

The desperation in his voice was heartbreaking, almost. He was a miniature version of his father - and the complete opposite of me, I have to add. Where Benny had his slick fall of dark hair and brown hair, I had short white-blonde hair, cropped in a pixie-like style, and big blue eyes framed by dark lashes. At six-foot-one, I was taller than most people my age; I couldn't go anywhere without getting a few stares.

"Mum!" Benny's face appeared in my line of vision again. "Are you listening to me?"

"'Course I am."

"Please call Auntie Jenna and tell her we can't go." He finally released his grip on my arm and instead plonked himself on my lap. "I know that it's your birthday today - I saw it on Auntie Jenna's calendar -" He sounded proud of himself at this revelation "- but I don't want anything bad to happen to you!"

"Aw, sweetie." My arms went around him. "Nothing bad will happen to either you or me. Auntie Jenna and Uncle Terry will take care of us, the same way they always have been. Do you remember when we first arrived in London, and they invited us to stay with them."

He nodded, smiling. "Jeff chased you up a tree."

"Jeff is pretty scary." I still had nightmares about that damn dog. "But, anyway, they've been taking care of us since then, and they won't stop today, okay? There's no need to be worried about anything." My phone buzzed in my back pocket; I pulled it out and checked the time. "Besides, my beautiful boy, we need to start getting ready for when Jenna and Terry arrive to take us out."

"Do I have to wear a suit?"

I chuckled. "Only if you want to."

We started back towards the house, our footsteps making a clapping sound against the winding paving slabs that led up to our ordinary, small, three story house, with its custard-coloured bricks and the drab grey slates that made up the roof. Amazingly average, and totally forgettable. Well, that had been what I'd been looking for - a forgettable house, just outside the big, beautiful city of London.

"Mum?" I pushed the backdoor open as Benny spoke.

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you want people to know when your birthday is?" He looked confused. "People know when my birthday is, and you don't mind that. Why don't you like people to know yours?"

"It's...complicated..." I replied.

"How?"

"You'll understand it better when you're a little older." Heck, I didn't even understand it myself. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but the doorbell **PING**ed, cutting him off. Grateful of the distraction, I went to answer the door.

"Haaaaaaaaappppyyy Biiiirrrthhhdaaaaay!" Jenna trilled as soon as I opened the front door, enveloping in a warm hug.

"You're early," I noted, moving aside to let her in (when she eventually let me go.)

"Well, I couldn't just let your birthday go past without making more of a fuss, could I?" She thrust a large bag into my hands. "From me and Terry. Happy Birthday. There's a soufflé in the car as well."

I blushed as red as my shirt. "I told you, Jen, I didn't want anything -"

"But I didn't listen!" She trilled again, in her high soprano. "C'mon, don't pull that face at me, Lucy-Lu. I've already seen you open it, and, guess what? You love it!"

"That's what you said about Jeff," I reminded her. "And he chased me up a tree!"

"He was just excited to get to know ya!" Jenna insisted. "Trust me, I'm the psychic one, remember?"

How exactly could I forget? Jenna always had a knack for spotting things, sensing things that others couldn't. The first time we met, she stopped me on the street, with a quizzical look on her face.

"You need help," she'd said simply. "Let me help you. You need it." And the rest had spiralled on from there. But, still, while I loved Jenna for being one of the greatest people I had ever known - currently, there were four people on that list and only two that were fully human - I was slightly nervous around her. Jenna knew things that others didn't - Terry and I had a long-running joke that she was an angel in disguise that could see and hear everything - and, sometimes, I saw her sending me looks out of the corner of her eye, as if she was trying to solve some great problem.

"Lucy-Lu," she said now, shaking her head. "You're lost in your head again. What will we do with you?"

"AUNTIE JENNA!" Benny came running down the hallway towards us at that moment.

"Hey! There's my favourite not-quite-nephew-but-never-mind!" Jenna scooped him up in her arms. "Uncle Terry's waiting for you in the car. We've got to get Mum ready, haven't we?"

Benny giggled. "Yes!" Jenna put him down again, and he scurried out of the front door, where Terry was waiting. I frowned, suspicious.

"What's going on, Jen?"

"You'll see, you'll see," she replied vaguely, waving my words away dismissively. "Come along, let's get you ready for -" She stopped suddenly, catching herself. "-the theatre."

"Something's going on. I'm not stupid, Jenna," I said, as she steered me up the stairs and into my room.

"Yeah, but, you wouldn't ruin my fun, would you, Lucy?"

"Since it's my birthday, shouldn't you be doing something for me?" I asked.

"Ah, but you wanted us to ignore your birthday yesterday."

"Yes, and then you insisted on taking Benny and I out to the theatre, so, you're not ignoring my birthday, are you?"

"Details, details." She shushed me again, and plonked me down in a chair in front of the mirror. I blinked a few times, taking in my reflection. Sometimes, I had to wave at myself a few times before I could actually realise that it was me looking back at myself. It was often like looking into the face of a familiar stranger - that person in the crowd that you swear you know, but have really never met in your life. Now, she was usually me. That familiar stranger, with the blue eyes I knew so well, yet with nothing else that was instantly familiar.

"Lucy?"

"Huh?" I'd been daydreaming again, and had missed what Jenna had said.

"I was saying, I'm gonna put this blindfold on you, so that you can't see what I'm doing."

"Why?" I groaned, as Jenna fastened the soft material over my eyes, cutting off my vision.

"Because, knowing you, as soon as my back is turned, you'll be sprinting for the door the first chance you get."

"Really? It's going to be that bad?"

"Only for you, Lucy-Lu." She tapped my head affectionately, before starting her work.

I switched off, trying to ignore what she was slathering onto my face, only responding to what she was doing, when she made me change into whatever outfit she'd picked out for me, which I was slightly nauseous about. Jenna had a very...unique style when it came to clothing.

"Keep your eyes closed," she ordered, whipping the blindfold off.

"Why?"

"I haven't finished yet." A drop of something touched my eyelid; I let out a sigh, and fidgeted.

"Don't you start that," Jenna replied, slipping into teacher-mode now. Being a high school teacher, she was very good at this.

"Where's Benny?"

"In the car, with Terry. They're getting themselves ready."

"In the car?"

"Yeah. We can't risk you seeing them yet."

"Why not?"

"In time, in time, my dear Lucy," she replied enigmatically. "There we are! Done. Now, sit there for two seconds, while I go and get changed myself. Don't you dare open your eyes, missy, or there will be hell to pay!" She released her grip on me, and I heard her moving to the other side of the room.

"How long do I have to sit here?" I complained. I'd never been one for patience.

"Just WAIT," Jenna instructed from somewhere on my left. I let out another sigh, and waited in silence. After what seemed like half an hour, Jenna triumphantly trilled out "Done!" in her high pitched voice, before grabbing my shoulders and pulling me somewhere across the room.

"Okay." I could hear the pride in her voice. "Open your eyes now!"

I did as I was told. And my mouth fell open.

The turquoise colour of the dress glistened like a coral seabed, with streaks of sunlight striking the ripples in the water. The bottom of it bunched in ruffles too; a soft swish of material filled my ears as I felt the material in my fingertips. Magnificent peacock feathers rested delicately on the folds; gold, jade and sapphire highlighted the strands.

My short hair was neatly brushed, my long fringe resting close to my eye, which was outlined in kohl to make my eyes look even larger than usual.

Jenna stood behind me, in a simple, sleeveless blue dress, with a silver bow slung around the middle.

"So...what do you think?" Jenna said, her voice smug and pride-filled.

"It's...It's a bit much for the theatre, isn't it?" I said, once I could speak again. "Don't get me wrong, Jenna, I love it, but..."

"But?" She looked worried.

"Everyone will look at me," I mumbled.

Jenna threw back her head and laughed. "Really, Lucy Clarke, what will we do with you? You look amazing - dressed to kill, and ALMOST as good as me - so, enjoy it!"

"Will do," I said, not entirely sure how I was going to "enjoy it" sitting in a theatre. But, well, there is a first time for everything, is there not? "Can I go and see Benny now?"

"Of course!" She grabbed her bag. "We'd better go, or else we'll be late. Come along."

We made our way down the stairs - slowly, since Jenna had decided to put me in high heels - and out onto the gravel driveway. Terry was leaning against the car, his untidy blonde hair unusually neat.

"Hey!" He called, as soon as he saw us. "Here she comes, the birthday girl!"

"Shut up," I mumbled, going red. Benny leapt out of the car, in a smart shirt and jeans, a grin across his face.

"Mum!"

"That was a good choice of yours, Benny," Jenna smiled. "I couldn't have done this without my super stylist here. Your son has better taste than you give him credit for, Lucy. Maybe he should buy all your clothes."

"You all knew about this?" I asked, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah." Terry put an arm around my shoulder. "But, no one argues with Jenna, so we had to keep it a secret. Isn't that right, Benny?"

"Yes!" Benny nodded vigorously. "Auntie Jenna told me she'd burn my duvet if I told you!"

I chuckled. "Threatening my son now, Jen?"

"What can I say? I needed a right hand man."

"Shouldn't we be heading off to this theatre then?"

"She's right!" Jenna waved her arms around. "What are we waiting for?"

* * *

"Wait. Pull over here, Terry." The car swerved over towards the pavement.

"Jenna? Why have we stopped here?" I was confused. We'd pulled up outside the old Rec. Centre, on the outskirts of the main hustle and bustle of the London streets.

"I left something here the other day, that's all," Jenna replied breezily. "We just have to pick it up. Coming?"

"Why do we all need to go?" I muttered. "I can't walk in these damn shoes."

"Which is exactly why you're coming, Lucy-Lu," Jenna said, rolling her eyes. "You need more practise. No more trekking about the place in those awful trainers you wear."

"They are not awful," I argued. "They're practical."

"Same thing." Jenna was anything, but a practical person. Another reason why I liked her.

The four of us hobbled towards the door, Benny and Terry in front, Jenna and I behind, mainly because I couldn't walk. And I towered above all of them, even more so than usual. For once, being tall suddenly wasn't such a good thing.

Terry pushed the door open, as Jenna helped me hobble into the darkness.

"Just in here, Lucy," she said loudly; I was suddenly struck with a horrible feeling.

"Jenna -" I began, but I never finished. The lights inside the hall flooded on, along with the sound of "The Violet Hour" by Sea Wolf and the chorus of "SURPRISE!" that were echoing around the room. The room full of people. My eyes flickered from the sea of faces, to the banner hanging at the back of the room, with _**HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LUCY!**_ printed across it.

I turned to Jenna. "You promised me you wouldn't make a fuss."

"And yet I did anyway!" She trilled, her voice filled with excitement, an arm snaking around me. "You think I wouldn't throw my best friend a birthday party?"

Benny's arms went around my middle. "Happy birthday, Mum."

My heart warmed at that, as choruses of "Awwww..." filled the room. I ruffled his hair.

"Thank you, my beautiful boy." I turned to my friends. "And all of you, of course."

"Then, what are we waiting for?!" Jenna yelled, skipping across to the CD player, and turning the volume up, full blast. "Let's get this show on the road!"

* * *

"My. Ears. Are. Killing. Me."

"Lighten up, Lucy!" Jenna slurred, stumbling out of the door, along with Terry and Marlene Davies, a girl who she worked with and had introduced me to. "It was a great night!" I rolled my eyes; I was the only one who had managed to stay sober, after all the alcohol that had been passed round. All I could say was...no one was going to remember tonight in a hurry. Certainly not Jenna or Terry, who had played host to five assorted men and woman, as they told the entire story of planning this big party in my honour.

Benny, who was by my side, yawned. "Mumma? I'm tired. Can we go home?"

"Sure we can." I elbowed Jenna. "Is either you or Terry in a fit state to drive?"

"Sure! Terry!" She called him over with a drunken sing-song voice. "Drive us all back to Lucy's, would ya, dear? I have a feeling I'm gonna need coffee -" She stopped suddenly, sobering up fast.

"Jenna?" I shook her gently. "Jenna?" She still didn't respond. "Jenna! Jenna, stop this, it's freaking me out! JENNA!" At my shout, she seemed to snap out of her trance, but, instead of looking at me, turned to look at Terry.

"Get us back to Lucy's. They...won't follow her...Just break the sound barrier, okay?"

Terry was instantly in front of her. "What is it? What do you see?"

"Jenna, what's going on?" Everyone ignored me. Benny clutched my hand.

"Mum, what's wrong with Auntie Jenna?"

"I can see..." Jenna had gone white, her eyes bloodshot and gushing. Terry was holding onto her trembling form, as if she might collapse at any moment. "I see...Strange creatures..." Her voice was a high pitched, breathless wheeze. "Looking...Searching for something...someone...Someone lost, changed by...by..." Her eyes flickered to me, and her eyes grew wider. "You."

"Me?"

"I...saw...you..." She panted. "You were...You were different...A whole other person...except...not a person...Not really...I just..." She made a strange whimper-like noise, before blinking a few times, as if coming out of a trance.

"Jenna...?" I began to say, but she held up a hand, silencing me.

"Terry, get the car running." Terry followed her instructions without a word, his face void of humour. Jenna yanked open the door of the backseat, and practically threw Benny and I inside like footballs, before leaping into the front seat next to her partner.

"Let's go. Quickly," she urged.

"What's going on?" I asked. Again, no one answered, so I busied myself with making sure Benny was strapped into his seat, as Terry weaved his way down the road, honking at slower cars, really trying to break the sound barrier, which surprised me. During the few driving lessons he'd given me, he'd been a nervous wreck for the entire journey; at one point, I thought he was about to start clawing his way out of the car.

"So, Lucy-Lu," Terry began, his voice in a higher octave than usual. "How was the party?"

"Great?" I replied, sounding too unsure to sound convincing. I was concentrating on Jenna; she was craning her neck, desperately trying to see outside in all directions. She needed a distraction and quickly, or else I'd be the one clawing to escape the car, and as an act of mercy, I'd take my son with me. So, I said the best thing that came to mind. "Terry, how did you manage to organise it all without me knowing?"

Terry launched into a cheerful stream of chatter, adding long strings of detail that I couldn't be bothered to keep up with, as I watched Jenna's posture start to relax slightly, as we got further and further away from London.

Good. She'd made me so frazzled that I was almost trembling. The tension in the air was so thick; you would need a steak knife to get through it.

And then the screaming started.

"TURN AROUND!" The wild fear in Jenna's voice shook me to my core. "TURN AROUND, TERRY! WE HAVE TO GET AWAY!" She lunged for the wheel, and the car swerved. Benny let out a yelp; I twisted out of my seatbelt and clutched him to me. I'd told him nothing would happen to him tonight, and I intended to stick to my word.

"It's okay, it's okay," I soothed, more for my own comfort than his. He whimpered and slid his skinny arms around me. A cold sweat broke out over me, as Jenna made another grab for the wheel.

"Jenna, it's okay, sweetheart," Terry began. "Nothing is -"

"CAN'T YOU SEE THEM?!" Jenna shrieked. "THEY'LL GET US! THESE...THINGS! AM I THE ONLY SANE ONE HERE?!" My heart thumped, as she grabbed the wheel; the car started spinning.

Round, round, round, round, until my head spun and the outside world blurred out of existence. My grip on Benny tightened.

"Mumma," he cried.

I placed a kiss on the top of his head. "You're okay. I promise."

"I love you, Mumma," he whispered, so quietly that I barely heard it.

"I love you too, my beautiful boy." My voice broke. "I'll always be there for -" I never finished my sentence.

The car went airborne, flipping over and over, smacking against the road with a deafening crunch, blotted out only by the sound of screaming. I was thrown back and forth in my seat, my head repeatedly banging against the roof of the car, cutting through the thin layers of skin like tissue paper. When the world became still again, I was dazed, fogged. Something warm and wet was dripping down my forehead, staining my dress. My scarlet dress.

Wait...wasn't it blue before? I could vaguely remember marvelling over the colour just a few hours ago. Yep, it had definitely been blue.

"Benny?" My voice was breathless, as if I'd just run a marathon. "Benny, are you okay?" No reply. "Benny? Benny?!" My voice became panicked, restless. "Benny!" I struggled to sit up; a large chuck of metal was sitting between me and my son.

But, I could see well enough.

Benny was slumped over in his seat, eyes closed, his head at an unnatural, sickening angle. Something red was smeared across his face, dripping down onto his shirt. No. No, no, no. Please, no.

"Jenna!" I yelled, my voice scratchy and thin. "Terry!" No replies came from them either. I couldn't reach up far enough to see them, but, inside, I already knew what had happened. My head was becoming foggy and the world had started sliding out of focus again. I tried to move, to call for help...and the piece of metal moved too, scarlet liquid slipping out of my body with it. It had gone right through me...right inside me...through my stomach...

_I'm going to die._ The thought didn't make me as scared as I thought it would. I died before, of course. Why should it start to scare me now? I had experience in this area.

_It's almost like falling asleep_, I thought. _Except, without the waking up bit. Huh. How funny. I can think normally whilst I'm bleeding to death._

And then, the world faded away, and I knew nothing more.

* * *

_**A.N: This is the reason I haven't updated in ages! I have been working on this beast over Christmas (Chapter four is being written in my little book), and I wasn't sure whether to post yet or not, but the internet needs more Wizards Vs Aliens fanfiction (I have only found two, there may be more, I'm not sure). So, I thought I'd contribute to the cause with THIS! I found this chapter really hard – Lexi is badass, even when she turned human in the Neverside, so I wanted to make her more human (in this, she has been human for two years), but I wanted her to keep some of her badass-ish-ness. Benny Jr may sound weird too – he was only in two episodes for about ten minutes, so I didn't have much to go on. **_

_**And yes, I know that Doctor Who is in a different universe to Wizards Vs Aliens, but THIS IS FICTION, MY BRETHERINS!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**"I walked across an empty land**_

_**I knew the pathway like the back of my hand**_

_**I felt the earth beneath my feet**_

_**Sat by the river and it made me complete**_

_**Oh simple thing where have you gone?**_

_**I'm getting old and I need something to rely on**_

_**So tell me when you're gonna let me in**_

_**I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin" **_**- Keane, "Somewhere Only We Know"**

* * *

"Ah, coming back to us now, sweetie?"

Huh? I was confused. Wasn't I supposed to be dead by now?

There was a strange beeping noise coming from somewhere to my left, appearing at the same time as the woman's voice.

This didn't happen last time...Did it? Weren't there supposed to be angels in long white robes? Where were the pearly gates that I had read about? Where were the saints and disciples?

"Come on, sweetheart, that's it. Come back to us."

My eyes opened.

I was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a heart machine, as a friendly-looking woman bustled around my bed, her dark hair sending loose tendrils into her violet eyes. She sent me a beaming smile.

"Welcome back, miss."

_Welcome back?_

"What...What -?" My voice cracked, rough from not speaking for so long. I cleared my throat, wincing at the ache, and tried again. "What's...going on? Where am I...?"

"You're in the Royal Hope Hospital, miss." The woman dragged a chair to my bedside, and sat herself down, shuffling papers. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

"Not...really." I tried to think through the fog that hung inside my head. "I was...in the car, with Jenna and Terry and Benny..."

"The little boy?"

"Yes. My son. Can I see him? Is he here?"

Her eyes flickered down to the floor. "...No."

"What, no, I can't see him, or no, he's not here? If he's not here, where is he?"

"Miss?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but -"

The door burst open, banging against the wall. A young doctor with dark hair strode into the room, a brisk confidence in her steely brown eyes.

"Ah, good, you're awake." She scribbled on her clipboard. "Miss...?"

"Clarke." It was Benny's last name, so I had adopted it as my own. "Where's my son?"

"Miss Clarke." She ignored my question. "I'm Dr Smith-Jones. I've been monitoring you since you arrived, three days ago."

"I've been out for three days?" It felt like...like no time had passed since I woke up in the car and now.

_The car...The wreckage...The metal in my stomach..._

I yelped, my hand going to my abdomen.

"Miss?"

"But - but...my stomach -!"

"What about your stomach?" Dr Smith-Jones looked confused. "There was nothing wrong with it. Do you feel unwell?"

"No, but -"

"The only treatment we administered were stitches for your forehead. Other than that, you had no other injuries. A miracle, honestly, if you ask me. There was barely a scratch on you."

"That...can't be right!" I fought with my hazy memory. I could vividly remember the metal in my stomach, blood seeping into the folds of my once-blue dress as I fought to get to Benny. Benny, who had been injured. Benny, who was...

"Where's my son?" I demanded again. "The little boy who was in the car with me. Where is he? Where's Jenna? Terry?"

"Jenna Oswald and Terry Goodman?"

"Yes. And Benjamin Clarke. Where are they?" I was getting quite annoyed now; Why wouldn't anybody tell me?!

Dr Smith-Jones breathed out heavily; a sick feeling began to settle in my stomach.

"Miss Clarke, I wish I could bring you better news, but, I can't. I'm sorry to inform you that you are the only survivor of the accident. Your son and your friends died on impact due to fatal injuries. I understand how hard this must be for you to hear right now, but..." I tuned out of her voice at this point, letting it fade into the background.

This was a dream. It had to be. I'd wake up at home, in my own bed, with Benny waking me up, giggling as he dragged me from sleep. Or maybe, I'd find out that I did die, and I would wake up in heaven with Benny, Jenna and Terry. What did heaven look like, anyway? Was it the pearly gates that I imagined? Or was it an individual's own personal heaven? If that was true, Benny's would be the beach. The beach...at Christmas time, with Christmas trees decorating every surface, and reindeer giving rides down the sand. Maybe I'd be able to join him there. When I woke up, of course.

The problem was...I didn't wake up.

Another couple of my friends, Olivia and John, came to visit me several times during the long week in hospital, shedding tears of grief over the loss of Jenna, Terry and Benny, and tears of relief over my miraculous survival.

"I just can't believe it," Olivia said, on one particularly grim afternoon. "I knew Jenna in first school. She was so vibrant, so loud...always babbling about things that she could "see"." She made quotation marks in the air around the last word, before patting my hand. "I'm so glad you're okay, Lucy-Lu."

I winced; the last person who called me Lucy-Lu was Jenna...and I was in no way, shape or form "okay".

"You're so lucky," Olivia carried on. "Surviving like that. No broken bones. That Dr Smith-Jones woman said there was a one in a million chance of this happening."

I gave a small shrug. "I don't know. I guess I'm just awkward."

Olivia pressed her lips together; she was a patient woman, but I know that I frustrated her to the point of exhaustion.

"She should be crying," She said to John one evening (I'd heard her outside of my room when she'd supposedly "gone to get coffee") "She should be grieving, mourning...She should be something! She'd feel so much better for it, John." What I didn't want to mention was the fact that my tears were on lockdown. If I cried, I accepted that the only family I had was gone. My brain wouldn't, couldn't, deal that.

The police visited me several times, along with a specialist, asking me all sorts of questions that I couldn't answer: Did the car collide with another vehicle? Was Terry guilty of drunk driving? Did I regain consciousness at any time? How did I feel when I thought about the fact that my family and friends were gone? Did I feel sad, empty, lonely? Depressed, lifeless, suicidal?

After my monosyllabic responses, the specialist concluded that I was suffering from survivor's guilt.

"She's punishing herself," I heard her telling Olivia. "Punishing herself for living on when those she loved have died." I was almost tempted to hack off my own ears and hand them to her. I'd figured it all out for myself. I was relieved to leave her behind when Olivia and John were allowed to take me home. I sat in the backseat of their Volkswagen, head down, pale blonde fringe hiding my eyes. Olivia and John kept exchanging looks with each other.

"Are you sure you want to go home, Lucy?" Olivia asked. "You're more than welcome to stay with us tonight."

"I'm fine," I mumbled. "I just want to go home."

"Are you sure that's...healthy?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then. I don't think what you're doing is right, Lucy-Lu, but, okay. We'll take you home."

"Thank you," I replied gratefully.

The half an hour drive out of the centre of London was taken in silence after that. It was only when we pulled into the driveway of my house that Olivia spoke again, as I hurriedly scooped up my bag, to get out of the car.

"Do you want us to come in with you?" She asked. "Make you some hot chocolate? John could fix you up something to eat and I could run you a bath...Make sure you take it easy, yeah?"

"No, thank you," I replied quickly; I didn't want to be around people in case I had some kind of mental breakdown tonight. The probability of that happening was pretty high.

John gave me a sympathetic smile. Despite its good intention, the smile irritated me; I didn't want people's pity.

"We'll be back tomorrow, okay?" John was saying; I nodded. "Make sure that you're okay." I watched their car drive away, before I turned and unlocked the front door.

The house was silent, the sound of the door too loud as I pushed it shut. The kitchen light was still on; I must have forgotten to turn it off before I left, as the soft glow filled the dark hallway. I took off my coat, not bothering to hang it up, leaving it dumped at the bottom of the stairs, and walked into the kitchen, my shoes padding across the floorboards.

A week ago, the kitchen had been a warm, friendly place, where Benny and I used to sit in the evenings, drinking hot chocolate, talking about our days - what he did at school, what I did at work. Now, without the two of us there, the place seemed harsh, cold, filled with memories that I couldn't face, not tonight. I slumped at the table, facing the picture hanging on the wall opposite me. The photo was taken a few short months ago, of Benny at Christmas, hanging up decorations on the tree that I had assembled (it had taken me over half an hour, mind.) Tinsel was wrapped around his head, blue, gold and red streaks woven in between strands of dark hair. His eyes were bright and twinkling, grinning at the camera. He had no worries, no cares...a whole life stretched out ahead of him. And then, my birthday came along, and Jenna's car ended up a wreck on the side of the road as she screamed herself hoarse about monsters only she could see, and suddenly, that life was cut off. He would never move up to the infamous high school, never pass exams, never learn to drive, never travel the world, never have a first kiss, never fall in love, never listen to me lecturing him in that special way about starting a family of his own.

I didn't realise I was crying, until I saw the drops of water that had landed on the table top, that were dripping down my cheeks. Usually, I would have put on a brave face and scrubbed the tears away, but I didn't have the energy anymore. I just wanted to go to bed and sleep, and sleep, and sleep; I'd figure out what to do in the morning.

I couldn't stop myself from peeking through the right hand door at the top of the first floor landing. Everything was just as I had left it; a pile of washing sat at the foot of the bed, cartoons and crayon-ings were pinned onto the pale blue walls, schools books and pencils cluttered the desk. A folded piece of paper lay on the bedside table, SANTA written across the fold. Curious, I picked it up. It was something that I had encouraged a few months ago, when I would find him huddled in a corner, worried about things that he was sure were going to happen. I told him to write to Santa, and tell him if anything was worrying him and Santa would always be there to listen. Often, Benny had kept his thoughts to himself after that, except when he was really worried. What if he saw...what was going to happen -?

No. Not going there. Definitely not going there.

Heading back downstairs to the bright lit kitchen, I seated myself back at the bench and opened up the paper.

_'Dear Santa,_

_Thank you for the pencils, books and the fish. It's Easter now, so I hope that I'm not waking you. But, honestly, it is an emergency. There's a crack in my wall, just above my desk. Mum said that it's just an ordinary crack, but, I know it isn't, because, at night...there's voices. I keep hearing a voice. So, please, please, please, could you come and fix it? Or, could you send someone else to fix it? A policeman, maybe? Someone Mum would trust - she doesn't like strangers. Thank you.'_

I smoothed out the crinkled edges of the paper while I thought. Cracks in walls? Voices? I knew that Benny often saw things, the way it appeared that Jenna could, but a lot of the time, these "things" were of different versions of future events, hazy with the knowledge that they may or may not happen.

My ears pricked up slightly, as a sudden sound filled the air. A muted rumble, followed by a metallic wheezing, getting louder and louder, until the whole room was shaking. And then -

BANG.

The room was filled in smoke and flames, glass shattering, the back door flying off its hinges. I screamed, diving under the table to escape the shards of rubble and the remains of the window that were raining down on the kitchen, which was shuddering with the vibrations. I tucked my head and knees together, pulling myself close to protect my body from the impact.

After what seemed like hours, the house stopped shaking, and fell silent, the only sound coming from the creaking of the kitchen light that was rocking backwards and forwards from its place on the ceiling.

"What the -?!" I struggled up from my place on the floor, my legs shaky. Careful to avoid the broken glass and plaster that littered the floor, I made my way to the back door - well, where the back door used to be - and managed to get out into the garden. The grass was scorched and burned; instinctively, I reached out and grabbed the nearest "weapon" that came to hand. I had gotten halfway down the garden when I realised that I was clutching a frying pan. Well, if someone needed an egg to be boiled, I had it sorted.

I edged my way to the bottom of the garden, frying pan raised, and stopped suddenly.

Lying in the remains of what had been the shed, was an ancient, faded, 1960s blue police box, surrounded by a thick cloud of smoke.

"What the -?!"


	3. Chapter 3

_**"I saw his blue spaceship materialize**_

_**He looked out and said to me "Run for your life!"**_

_**I don't know why I never thought to ask for his name**_

_**But I really don't think he'd have told me the truth anyway**_

_**But that's okay" **_**- Chameleon Circuit, "An awful lot of running"**

* * *

I took a few small, tentative steps towards the smoking blue box. "How in the hell -?!"

It appeared that I wasn't capable of forming complete sentences, so my mouth just hung open.

The box was still as I approached it, slipping through the yellow-tinged fog that surrounded it. It was lying on its side; I couldn't see where the door was. I was assuming that it actually had a door - maybe it didn't. I screwed up my face. This was so confusing; nowhere in my study of humans - done in the days I could barely remember - was there anything about blue boxes falling into people's gardens!

Suddenly, the doors of the box - which, I could now see, were facing the sky - flew open, more smoke billowing out of it; it made me coil backwards, coughing. Through the hazy cloud, I saw some kind of hook come sailing through the air, pitching itself next to my feet. I glanced from the ground, back up to the box.

A hand suddenly darted out, grabbing the side of the box, swiftly followed by another. I raised my frying pan aloft, ready to get a good swing at whatever was climbing out...When the face appeared in front of me.

It was a man, no more than a few years older than me. Brilliant blue eyes, flaked with golden hazel and vibrant green, bored into mine, almost hidden by an unkempt mop of dark, floppy hair that was stuck to the sides of his broad face. Could one person have so much...CHIN? Blimey.

"Can I have an apple?"

I frowned. "You...What?"

"Can I have an apple?" He repeated. "All I can think about, apples!"

"Uhh, okay -"

"Maybe I'm having a CRAVING!" He shrieked, cutting me off. "That's new! Never had cravings before!" As he was talking, he pulled himself up and over the side of the box, so that his legs were dangling over either side; he glanced back inside the box. "Whoa! Look at that!"

"Are you...okay?"

"Just had a fall." He waved his hand around in a dismissive fashion. "All the way down to the library. Helluva' climb back up."

"You're soaking wet," I noted.

"I was in the swimming pool."

"You just said that you were in a library." Even in my head, this sounded ridiculous.

"Yeah, so was the swimming pool," he replied casually, as if this were a part of everyday conversation.

"Are you...a policeman, or something?" I wasn't sure if this man was stable enough to be a policeman, but, well, it was worth asking. If I found out something about him, I could call someone and send him on his way; he was clearly drunk and I didn't want to deal with all this for much longer.

"Why?" He was saying, in reply to my question. "Did you call a policeman?"

"No."

"Then, why waste time asking me - ARGH!" His whole body twitched, sending him jerking to the ground, writhing in pain.

"Oh...God!" I bent down beside him. "Are you alright, Mister?"

"I'm okay." He held up his hand in a weak attempt to bat me off. "I'm fine, I'm good. This is all perfectly norm-" He cut himself off, and sighed suddenly, as if he'd been holding his breath for a long time (If the swimming pool story was right, this may have been true.) A golden trail of light spilled from his mouth, dissipating in the air. This seemed vaguely familiar to me - Hadn't I heard of a species that could do this?

"Who are you?"

"I don't really know yet," he replied.

I snorted. "That makes two of us, then."

He seemed perplexed. "Are you scared?"

"No. It just looks a bit weird."

"No, no, no." He chuckled. "You asked if I was a policeman. I see it in your face. Your eyes are full of it."

"Uh, well, a crazy madman did just land in my garden. I think anyone would be a little freaked out, don't you?"

He sighed. I was changing the subject to avoid the question and he knew it.

"You're deliberately missing the point."

"Fine. I'm just a bit...shaken up tonight. See, I found this thing -"

"Well, then!" He leapt off the ground. I couldn't believe it - He and I were almost _**the. Same. Height.**_ "No time to lose! I'm The Doctor; Do everything I tell you, don't ask stupid questions, and don't wander off."

"Err...where am I going to wander off to in my garden?"

"Fair point. But, you never know what may happen around these tulips..." He turned around and started walking - only to go smacking into a tree a moment later.

"You okay?" I peered down at him.

"Early days," he replied, in his casual tone again. "Steering's a bit off."

I held out a hand and helped him up. "Maybe you'd better come inside."

"Whatever for?"

"You don't look so good -"

"What are you talking about?" He demanded. "I'm as healthy as a horse - I should know, I'm The Doctor!" He marched off in the direction of the house, and I hurried after him, frying pan tucked under my arm.

I found him standing in the middle of my ruined kitchen, picking at the flaking paint of the back door, which had found its way onto the sink. I quickly found an apple from the fruit bowl and tossed it at him; he caught it in one hand.

"If you're a doctor..." I began. "...then, why does your box say POLICE on it?"

He made no answer; instead bit into the apple. He chewed it experimentally, before sptting it out; the chunks of apple clattered to the ground.

"That is disgusting!" He yelped. "What is THAT?!"

"An apple. What did you think it was?"

"Apples are rubbish. I hate apples."

"You...just said you loved them."

"No, no, no!" He said childishly.

"Yes, yes, yes!" I replied, in the same childish tone, stamping my foot.

"No, no, no!" He said firmly. "I love...yoghurt! Yoghurt's my favourite - give me yoghurt!"

"I don't even know if we have any..." I yanked open the fridge and saw a single pot in the door. I checked the date on it. "Uh, it went out of date today; I hope you don't mind -"

He yanked it out of my hand, ripped off the lid and downed it in one. Again, the yoghurt was soon splattered on my kitchen floor; I groaned inwardly. How was I supposed to clean that up?!

"I hate yoghurt!" The Doctor's voice cut across my thoughts. "It's just...stuff! With...bits in!"

"You just said it was your favourite!"

"New mouth. New rules. It's like eating after cleaning your teeth; everything tastes wro - ARGH!" He twitched and jerked again, catching himself on the doorframe and clinging on.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me?" He demanded. "What's wrong with you? Why haven't you got any decent food?"

"Maybe because I don't run a flippin' cafe!" I snapped.

"If you did, I'd give you minus five stars."

"You seem to be forgetting that this is my house. In my house, it means I am allowed to kick your butt."

"Fry me something, and the rating will go up."

"Fry something yourself!"

"Fry what? It's your kitchen; you know what's in here!"

I wasn't in the mood to argue with him. "Okay, okay, fine. What do you want?"

"What have you got?"

"What do you want?!"

"What have you got?!"

"Okay, this is getting us nowhere." I let out a sigh. "We have some bacon left over, if you want that?"

"Ooh, bacon!" His face lit up. "Yes, definitely! Give me bacon!"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, yes, of course. Sorry - I'm being very rude, aren't I?"

"Just a bit." _Or a lot._

"Maybe that's what I am now. Rude...and still not ginger." He seemed to be muttering to himself, but then spoke at normal volume. "I'm sorry. May you fry me some bacon, please?"

"Yes, I will. And, thank you."

He grinned, watching me find the last few strips of bacon and drop them into the frying pan.

"The bathroom's that way, by the way. If you want a towel to dry off." I gestured down the hall.

"How thoughtful of you." He flashed me a beaming smile, and sauntered down the hall, returning with a fluffy white towel wrapped around his head; I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the laughter. To distract myself, I shovelled the bacon onto a plate and placed it on the table.

"Eat up, Mr...?"

"No, Mr. Just The Doctor." He slid into the seat opposite me and picked up a strip of bacon in between his fingers, cramming it all into his mouth. He chewed experimentally, before the contents were soon falling from his mouth in his haste to spit them out.

"Bacon!" He coughed. "That's bacon! Are you trying to poison me?!"

"What?! You just said you wanted it!"

"No, no, no!" He pushed the plate away. "What else do you have?"

* * *

"We've got some carrots?" I dumped the empty tins of baked beans, peaches and tomato soup in the recycling bin by the gaping hole that was now the back door.

"Carrots?!" He looked at me with bulging eyes. "Are you insane?!"

"Sometimes I wonder," I muttered.

"Let me see..." He peered at the remaining food in the fridge. "I'll tell you what I need. I need...I need...Aha! Fish fingers...and custard!"

"Ew!" I wrinkled my nose. "Fish fingers...and custard? Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously! I'm always serious!" He stuffed the fish fingers under the grill - I had to rescue the box before he grilled that too - and heated up the custard, stirring it absentmindedly.

"Who's the boy on the fridge?"

"Hm? Oh! That's my...s-son." I stumbled over the last word. The Doctor didn't seem to notice, tipping the lukewarm custard into a mixing bowl and rescuing the fish fingers.

I joined him at the table this time, finding the last of the ice cream in the freezer. We ate in comfortable silence, giving each other small, curious smiles when we realised that the other was looking at them.

"Funny," I said after a while.

"What is?"

"All this."

"Is it? Good. Funny's good...yes?"

I nodded. "Funny's good."

"So, then." He licked the custard off his fingers. "What's your name?"

"Lucy."

"Ah, that's a brilliant name! Lu-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-y-y-y!" He dragged it out. "Like a name in a fairytale."

"Hardly," I snorted.

"So, your son, is he asleep? Thought we'd of woken him by now."

"No, he's...not here," I said lamely.

"What about the Dad? Where's he?"

"He's...not here either. He doesn't know where I am. It's...complicated."

"You're here all alone?" He sounded shocked.

"I'm not scared of being alone, if that's what you're implying."

"Of course not! Box falls out of the sky, man falls out of a box, man eats fish custard...And look at yer! Just sitting here! So, do you know what I'm thinking right now?"

"I'm not a mind reader, so, no. What are you thinking?"

"Must have been something awful that's got someone like you worried." He finished off his food. "So, come on, then. What is it?"

"Nothing."

He rolled his eyes. "You're lying. Don't lie to me. Don't ever think you're capable of that."

_Wouldn't you like to know?_ "Fine. I found this in my son's room." I pushed the paper across the table. "I don't know what it means, and I'm...concerned, that's all."

He studied it for a few seconds, before leaping up from his seat.

"Where's this crack, then?"

"My son's room, but -"

"Show me."

"Excuse me?"

"Show me."

* * *

"You've had some cowboys in here. Not actual cowboys...although that can happen...Lucy?"

"Hmm?" I looked up from the apple in my hand.

"Is there something wrong?"

"No, it's just...my son used to hate apples," I said, surprising myself. "So, his dad used to make faces on them."

"They sound good."

"Who do?"

"Your son and his dad." He smiled, before turning back to the wall. "This wall is solid and the crack doesn't go all the way through it."

"So?"

"So? Where's the draft coming from?" He pulled out a silver tube out of his pocket and pointed it at the wall.

"What's that? A...probe...thing?"

"Sonic screwdriver," he said absentmindedly.

"Who has a sonic screwdriver?"

"I do!" He stared at the readings. "Wibbly wobbily timey wimey!"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you know what the crack is?"

"Well, obviously not. What is it?"

"It's a crack!"

"No?! REALLY?!" I muttered, rolling my eyes. "NEVER would have guessed THAT one."

"But, I'll tell you something funny. If you knocked this wall down, the crack would stay put, because the crack isn't in the wall."

"What do you mean it's not in the wall? Of course it's in the wall - I can see it! Where is it, if not in the wall?"

"Everywhere. In everything. It's a split in the skin of the world." He spun round on one foot. "I need a glass." He grabbed the glass of water from the table, threw the water across the floor and pressed the glass against the crack.

"What ARE you doing?"

"Shush! I can hear something..." He listened. "Prisoner Zero...has escaped."

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, that, on the other side of this wall, there's a prison. And they've lost a prisoner."

"Um...okay?"

"Right, the only way to close a breach is to open it all the way. The forces will invert, and it'll snap itself shut. Or..."

"What?"

"Uh, you know when other people tell you everything's going to be fine, and you know that they're lying to make you feel better?"

"Yes...?"

"Everything's going to be fine." He held out a hand; I took it, still confused. He raised the sonic device again; a high-pitched buzzing filled my ears, as the crack on the wall split open, leaving a gaping hole. I peered into the darkness.

"Is that it?"

"Hello?" The Doctor yelled. "HEY! HELLO IN THERE!" A burning white light filled my vision and I stumbled backwards, recoiling.

"What is that?!"


	4. Chapter 4

_**"I need some sleep**_

_**Time to put the old horse down**_

_**I'm in too deep**_

_**And the wheels keep spinning 'round" **_**- Eels, "I need some sleep"**

* * *

"What is that?" I repeated, straightening up. "Is that this Prisoner Zero?"

"No. I think this is Prisoner Zero's guard. HELLO IN THERE!" I fought the urge to cover my ears as well as my eyes. The light flared painfully for a second, before the crack snapped shut. I blinked, bright colours dancing before my closed eyes.

"See?" The Doctor smiled proudly. "Told you it would close!"

"What even was that?"

"Whatever it was, it sent me a message." He waved something in front of me.

"Uh...it's blank."

"It's psychic paper. Shows people what I want them to see. Also, people can send me messages - it's all very clever. Let's see..." He held up the blank piece of paper. _"Prisoner Zero has escaped."_

"I think we gathered that."

"Why tell us?"

"In case we didn't get it the first twenty times?"

"They wouldn't, unless..."

"Unless...? What?" I prompted.

"Unless Prisoner Zero escaped through here."

I snorted. "I think I'd know if some random alien had decided to make some kind of spawn nest in my house, thank you very much."

"No, no, wait!" He dashed out onto the landing. "Brand new me, you see, Lucy. Nothing works the way it used to."

"I know the feeling," I muttered.

"But, there's something, something I'm missing...In the corner...of my eye...somewhere."

"You're not making sense, Doctor."

"Excuse me, Lucy, I'm making perfect sense. You're just not keeping up properly."

"Charming fellow, aren't you?" I raised an eyebrow.

"From your tone, I'm assuming that you're insulting me."

"You assume correctly," I replied, but he wasn't listening to me anymore. "Doctor?"

"No!" He yelped suddenly, as if he could hear something I couldn't. "No, no, no, no!" He raced down the stairs, tripping in his haste; I followed him.

"Where are you going?!"

"The engines are phasing!" We were charging through the back garden. "She can't hold much longer! She's gonna burn!"

"But...it's just a box! How can a police box have engines?"

"It's not a box!" He scrambled up the side. "It's a time machine!"

"What, a real one?" I raised an eyebrow and folded my arms. "Really?"

"From the sound of your voice, I guess you don't believe me."

"Again, you guess correctly."

"Well, then, you believe wrong, Lucy, my friend. I have a real time machine - well, not for much longer, if I can't get her stabilised. Five minute hop into the future should do it!"

"You're going somewhere?"

"Yep! Give me five minutes, I'll be right back!"

"People always say that. Like I'd start to believe it now," I joked, trying to keep the bitterness from seeping into my voice. The Doctor paused, before shifting round to face me.

"Am I people? Do I even look like people?"

"No," I agreed, unwillingly.

"Then, trust me." He gave me a beaming smile. "I'm The Doctor." He jumped back into the smoking box, and the doors slammed shut. The metallic wheezing filled the air, and the box seemed to...fade...from existence, leaving me alone in the garden.

"What the -?!"

_I must have had a mental breakdown. A hallucination. Dreamed it all. I must have. There must have been a relapse of chemical activity somewhere in this area that released gas onto me. Something._

Shaking my head, I turned and made my way back up the garden path, trying to ignore the rubble, absence of a back door and the empty plates that filled the kitchen. I couldn't even begin to think over what I had just seen and heard - or rather, not seen and not heard. I couldn't think at all, actually; I went through the motions of brushing my teeth and changing into my pyjamas numbly. I stumbled into bed, burrowing under the duvet, trying to forget about everything.

But, I couldn't. Every time I dozed off, I dreamed of the accident, of the metal slicing through my stomach...Of Benny, slumped over in his seat, cold, lifeless, still, little more than a rotting corpse...

And then his eyes would open, burning bright red, with no life in them, and I would wake screaming, a cold sweat over my face.

I leaned across to my bedside table, fingers enclosing around my phone, after the fourth time I had woken up. I saw the time on the glowing screen: three o'clock in the morning. I groaned, rolling onto my back and staring at the dark ceiling. My eyes were heavy like sandpaper, my head thumped, my throat was raw from screaming so much. Long streaks of tears ran across my cheeks, and I scrubbed them away, and squeezed my eyes tightly shut, praying to whoever was listening that I could sleep, just have a moment of piece...

* * *

My phone buzzed, startling me from sleep. The pale light of the day was streaming in through my window. I reached across for my phone, and hit ANSWER.

"Hello?" My voice was rough, cracked.

"Lucy, where are you?" John's voice was filled with concern. "We've been knocking for ten minutes already! Are you out?"

"No." I stifled a yawn. "I'm in bed. Or I was."

"What are you doing in bed at this time? It's gone midday!"

"Why are you even outside anyway?" I rubbed my eyes.

"We told you!" Olivia's voice drifted down the phone. "We're back to make sure you're okay! Let us in!"

I glanced at myself in the bedroom mirror. "Can I take a shower first?"

"You expect us to wait in the cold while you shower?"

"Okay, okay, fine. But, it isn't pretty." I struggled out of my duvet nest and staggered across the room, ready to face the real world.

* * *

"What the HELL happened in here?!"

I winced. "Keep your voice down, Olivia. I feel like utter crap."

"You look like utter crap."

"Thanks, John." I rolled my eyes, even though I knew he was right - my hair was sticking up in every direction, dark purple bruises shadowed under my tired, drooping eyes. Decorating my shoulders were a few gnarly pink lines from where I'd scratched myself against the car seat during the accident, and a thin red line running across my forehead from the stitches. My head felt like someone had just thrown a rock against it, and the rest of me felt weighed down and heavy.

Olivia was staring in horror around my ruined kitchen.

"Oh, Lucy-Lu, sweetheart, you've been burgled!"

"Via, I haven't been burgled."

"But, look at this place, it's a total wreck!"

"I can see that."

"Looks nothing like a break-in if you ask me," John said. Being a detective, he was good at deducting this sort of thing. "Look at these marks on the wall. Like nothing I've ever seen at a break-in before!"

"So what?" Olivia scoffed. "They're just burn marks. Anyone could have made those."

"But, look at them, Via, honey." John got up to take a closer look, as I clutched my cup of coffee. It was the only thing that was keeping my eyes open. "It's like...something went off, exploded outwards...It's as if this room was on the edge, the outskirts."

"Really, John, now you're being ridiculous," Olivia said firmly.

"No, it's simple. Look. Lucy, you got any spare paper lying around."

"Sure. Uh...look behind the bread bin." John foraged until he found a scrap of paper. He then stuck his finger under the tap, and pressed a print onto the piece of paper. "Look. When the water soaks into the paper, it fills out."

"So?"

"So, that's exactly what it's like here. This room is on the edge, here, see? And it's as if something exploded in the centre here..."

"But, like I said, anyone could have made those marks."

"Then, why is nothing taken?" John asked, more to himself than us. "Nothing's missing - and, if someone went to all this trouble and trashed this room, they would have taken things too, ransacked the whole house...If someone were to do this, these marks can't be recreated by a blow torch...Heck, you'd need a bomb!"

"Then, there's your answer."

"No, no, no...If they had a bomb, it would've affected more than just this room. Lucy would have been killed."

"Well...maybe it was a very small bomb?" Olivia shrugged. "Ugh, I don't know! All I know is that Lucy needs some TLC, and we're standing here talking about bombs and death, which really isn't helping. Especially since I was going to ask..."

"Ask what?" I looked up at her.

"It's...err..." She shuffled. "It's the funeral tomorrow, and, err, we were wondering if you wanted to say a few words, uh, about the departed."

"Oh." I hadn't actually thought about things like that, normal things that had been carrying on during my time in hospital. "I, uh..."

"You don't have to decide right now," Olivia said, patting my shoulder. "But, I'm just saying...this is your chance to say goodbye." I swallowed against the lump that had appeared in my throat.

"Can we please not talk about this?" I croaked. "Not now."

"Sure, sure." John answered before Olivia could. "What do you want to talk about? Did anyone else watch the _Sherlock_ re-runs last night?"

"You're obsessed with that damn _Sherlock_," Olivia snorted.

"I had a crazy dream last night," I heard myself say.

"Really? What about?"

"Okay, well, basically, I was sitting in here, and then the kitchen...exploded...Like it did in real life. Weird, huh? Anyway, so, I go into the garden, and there's this blue police box lying in the grass, and I'm armed with a frying pan -"

"A frying pan?"

"Closest thing by the back door," I explained. "Anyway, this guys falls out of the box, and starts spewing random stuff about swimming pools and apples, and then says _"I see it in your eyes - you're scared."_ And, then, he walks into a tree, after telling me that he's "The Doctor", or something."

"Wow. Creepy."

"Tell me about it. Anyway, this guy comes back into the kitchen and demands that I cook food for him that he apparently "loves" one second and then despises the next, and he ends up eating fish fingers and custard."

"Then what?"

"Uh..." I wasn't sure whether to tell them about the crack; that felt too personal, private, like a lot of topics that I had refused to discuss. Like my past - partly because I could barely remember anything (my memory had been screwed up since THAT day), and I could only remember certain pieces. And certain people, of course.

"I can't really remember," I lied weakly. "He just rambled about some stuff, jumped back into his police box and flew away."

"Maybe it's telling you that your type is magical guys in flying police boxes," Olivia teased.

"Magical is definitely right," I said, just as a strange, faint noise filled the air. Some kind of metallic wheezing...?

"LUCY!" The shout rang out from the bottom of the garden. "Lucy, I've worked out what I was missing! You've gotta get out of there!"

"What the hell?!" John leapt out of his seat, just as a figure, in tattered clothes, came stumbling up the garden path.

"Lucy! Are you alright? Are you there?" The figure stopped suddenly, surveying us all with bluey-greeny-hazel eyes. "Oh! Hello there!"

"Who the hell are you?!" Olivia demanded shrilly.

"I'm The Doctor." He held out a hand. "Nice to meet -"

"Oh, shut up!"

"My, how rude!" He turned to look at me (I was pretty sure that my facial expression matched that of a goldfish). "I'm sure I wasn't as rude as that last night!"

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" Olivia snapped. "Some poor woman goes through trauma, and you decide to pull some kind of freak magical illusion to corrupt her mind? What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"I assure you, Miss...?"

"Look at him, John, he's clearly a druggie! Arrest him!"

"No!" I snapped out of my goldfish state. "The Doctor...is...my friend."

"But, you just said -!"

"I must have remembered it wrong," I interrupted smoothly.

"But, this can't be happening!"

"But, it is, so don't waste my time!" The Doctor marched across the room and pulled me up from my seat. "Listen. You need to get out of here. Now."

"But -!"

"No buts. Just do it. Get into your friends' vehicle and drive into the city."

"Why?"

"Let me worry about that."

"No." I yanked myself free of his grasp. "This is my house, which means that if I'm going to leave it, I will do it of my own actions, not because some...some...madman with a box tells me to!"

"Here-here, Lucy!" Olivia called out.

"Doctor, if this is real, tell me what's going on."

There was silence for a moment.

"Prisoner Zero is here."

"Excuse me?!"

"You heard me, shouty woman." This was directed at Olivia.

"Excuse me, that's my wife you're talking to!" John stepped in.

"Wife? You poor bloke! I mean, I'm not one to judge, but...you poor bloke!"

"He's a creep! Look at him!" Olivia said from John's side. "Get the boys down here and cart him off with all the other loonies in this city!"

"No, John, don't!" I tried to get in between the door of them. "He's not crazy, or a creep! He's just..."

"Just what?"

"Boundary...challenged?"

Olivia snorted. "Nice try, Lucy."

"Look, can we argue about my state of mind outside, please?" He was trying to be as polite as possible.

"We're not going anywhere with you!" Olivia snapped. "The only place you're going is the police station!"

"Humph!" The Doctor huffed, ignoring her, running up the stairs.

"Hey! What the hell is wrong with you?! Running around a stranger's house - HEY, COME BACK HERE!" John raced after him; I dragged Olivia along as well.

"Prisoner Zero is here! Is no one listening to me?! You all need to get out of here!"

"Listen to this, _CREEP_!" Olivia swung at him, knocking him to the ground.

"Olivia!" I yelped. "You didn't have to knock him out!"

"You don't seriously _BELIEVE_ him, do you?" Olivia raised an eyebrow at me.

"Why would he go on about it for so long if it wasn't true? Besides, last night -"

"He's not right in the head!" Olivia whirled around to John. "Handcuff him to the radiator and call the boys."

"Via, honey -"

"Oh, fine, must I do everything around here?!"

"Leave him!" I protested. "Last night, he was talking about this...Prisoner Zero...He's telling the truth."

Olivia pressed her lips together, eyebrow raised.

"I'm serious!" I persisted. "He's not crazy - there's an alien behind Benny's wall!"

"Lucy..." John's voice was gentle, as he took my hand. "...What's going on here?"

"I...I don't know!" I felt myself crumbling. "Nothing...makes sense like it used to!"

Olivia shook her head. "You're mad. The pair o' you."

"Leave it, sweetheart -"

"No! I won't "leave it"! I'm not having this loony mess Lucy up like this - Look at her, John!"

"Hey, I am here, you know. I can hear you!"

"Yeah? And look at you. Breaking down into tears. You need calm, Lucy. Not...this!"

"Look, just leave him alone. He's got nothing to do with it -"

"Nothing to do with it? Bullshit, Lucy." I frowned; I'd never understood what that word meant.

"So..." John gestured to The Doctor, who was face-first on the floor. "What are we gonna do about this one?"

* * *

_A.N: Guess who's making a fanfiction comeback?! Yep, meeeee! Sorry for my long break, but I'll get right back to work, I promise!_


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